Wilson Wilson and Lee: Static Drips & Wallpaper Rips
by FLTTW
Summary: We all know that Lee and Wilson are alive, but how did they survive? Wow, look at me, I'm on a rhyming spree. Anyway, what happened to the two, between then and now? Have fun reading. I'm happy to upload the first Utopia story on FFN, I hope there'll be more! Rated M for coarse language and possible gore. (As is the show.)


**Hello! Loops here, writing the first ever Utopia Fan Fiction on FFN. (Yay!) **

**This is set just after 6x1.**

**Remember to review as it helps me improve. **

**Hope you enjoy! **

* * *

The light streams through the sheer, ragged curtain, illuminating miniscule particles floating in the air, they seem to glisten. Time seems slower, everything's slower.

A yellow plane blips across the sky. I follow it with my finger. Is it supposed to take this much energy just to lift your arm?

A hand pushes my limb back to my side.

"Wilson. You're too weak, save your energy."

I recognise that voice. _That bastard. __I thought I shot him. I thought he was dead._

I jolt upright, but it hurts so much. My side. What the hell happened?

The man gently pushes me back. The ceiling is old and decrepit; paint chipping and mould dripping.

I get my breath back. I have so much to say to him.

"You...You fucker...y-you were the one who spooned my bloody eye out."

"Yes, that is I. Though I believe we were never formally introduced to one another."

He's leaning into my line of sight now. Look at that stupid fucking up-do.

He has a manic smile pasted on his features.

His left arm seems inoperative. Is it damaged? I hope to fuck it is. He's sounds out of breath too.

"Hello, I'm Lee. You're Wilson. Nice to meet you."

I can hear my own teeth grinding with anger.

"You rubbed fucking bleach in my eyes."

"That was a long time ago, back then we were still looking for Jessica Hide. Get over it."

"Get over it!? I-I was blind for weeks. My eyes always hurt. I still can't tell if something is a foot or a meter away from me, for Christ's sake!"

"It was all in the good name of Janus."

"Fuck Janus. Why am I not dead? Why don't you just kill me now?"

I can't see him again. I drop my head to the left.

He's sitting back in a chair that has apparently been beside me all along. Still wearing that grin.

"Because, Wilson Wilson. I'm your torturer."

"Oh piss biscuit."

* * *

"But...But I shot you. I thought you were dead. I murdered you."

"You _thought _I was dead. What you didn't know was that when The Network's clean up team came to get rid of all evidence, they found me, barely alive. You definitely made your mark though. My left lung is fucked, and I can't use my left arm. _Cock sucker._"

"Then why haven't you tied me up?"

"You need to recover. Anyway, just try to move. I assure you, you won't get far."

He's right.

"Why am I here and not in a hospital?"

"We couldn't put you in a hospital! No, you're in a secret location. A place where people are too scared to visit."

Shetland? I won't say that though. He might have to move me.

"Oh."

He gets up to leave. Out of the top of my vision I see him stop in the doorway.

"Just you lay there...Plot your daring escape, do whatever. Think recovering thoughts. And when that's over, we'll start your torture."

"Wait! I don't need to be tortured, I'm on your side. I'll tell you anything."

He's coming back over now. The clacking of his shoes ring in my ears enough to make me close my eyes, tight.

When I open them, he's on my level. Kneeling to look straight into my eyes. It's unnerving.

"That's not how it works, Love. And if it was, I would still ram a stick into your fucking eye socket for turning me into an invalid."

He's scarily calm.

He gets up to leave again.

* * *

It's getting colder. I take my time to look around the room.

There's a strong grey filter over everything. A single bulb hangs from a shabby fitting, though not turned on.

The only source of light is a barred window to my right. No trees, or ground, or buildings behind it. Through it, all I can see is sky.

I'm in a corner, one wall directly behind my head.

On a counter to my left there's a whole variety of sinister-looking tools laid out, almost waiting for me to grab one.

Wires and pipes go from my left hand, under a dirty blanket, up to monitors and bags of blood and fluid.

I hold off from looking at the area of my body that hurts the most. I don't want to see the number Jessica did on me just yet.

I know that Jessica did it, but the only visual memory I have is watching blood splutter from my mouth and onto the floor.

There isn't even a door in the doorway I mentioned earlier.

A dark hall is from there. Static from something like a TV or radio resonates down it.

My neck is starting to hurt from the odd angle.

* * *

What do I think about? What _can _I think about? The government probably has all out thoughts tapped. But if that's the truth, then why do we need to be hurt for information? Guess those conspiracy theorists think Big Brother is far more advanced than it is.

I sigh.

At least I can still breathe better than 'Lee.'

I chuckle at that, but hurts somewhere deep in my stomach.

The chuckle turns into a groan.

No one comes in to see if I'm okay.

* * *

I've been staring at the sky for hours now.

It's changed colour and brightness.

Blue almost totally hidden by the window's frame, orange and variants above, and a deep, ocean blue at the top. It's a clear night.

I wonder if the light is ever going to come on.

Painkillers must have just been wearing off earlier, because now the pain is almost unbearable.

The static is hurting my ears.

* * *

The light's almost gone.

But I'm not scared of the dark.

Just of what's out there.

* * *

**I may just continue this regardless of followers, as a pastime. Thank you for reading, my fronds.**


End file.
